Risen
by The Other Perspective
Summary: Who needs a heart when you're part demon? Jonathan is back, and on a hunt for the Morgenstern ring... Meanwhile, Simon prepares to leave for New York to go back to mundane school... Clary and Jaceness golore. First FanFic, please read!
1. Back Again

**First FanFic! Eep! Excitment! Anyway, hope you tell me what you think of it!  
****So, here's Chapter 1, short and.. strange. It gets better, trust me.  
****Topsy**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything oober recognizable... Jonathan, Isabelle, Jace, Valentine, Angel Square, Alicante, Idris, and anything else that gives you a strange sense of deja vu.**

_Isabelle Lightwood lay huddled on the muddy ground before him. Her dark hair covered part of her contorted face, but not enough to obscure her ruby lips from view. They were parted in a shriek that echoed off the surrounding trees, the river that rushed madly by, and the body of her fair-haired friend…………_

_He swung his arm down again, _raking_ the blood stained whip across her writhing body. Her scream intensified, filling him with a deep, dark satisfaction. The gashes that ran from her shoulder to her hip oozed her worthless blood. It flowed in streams down to the matted grass, the earth drinking it up, taking it into its soil. He brought her weapon down again, this time letting the tip lick her once-pretty face and tear those round lips…_

_Her screams seised, and scarlet fluid dripped from her mouth. He uttered a merciless laugh with the next lash. "What fools you and your family are—thinking you stand a chance against Valentine? Against _me_? How pathetic. And to think I almost _kissed _you. You little Lightwood bitch! I should have smashed your face in with that hammer when I had the chance…"_

_And then the edges of his vision bled a heavy, dark ink, slowly narrowing his range of sight. Something heavy protruded from his back… a horrible darkness leaked through his body, seeping itself into his veins…. _

_He turned slowly around, anticipating the death of whoever was responsible for doing this to him. And in the narrow field of his sight, he saw golden eyes… the Herondale boy, his imposter brother, watching him with eyes wide with…. What? Jace was dead! He had been killed minutes earlier! This was impossible…_

_Then the realization gripped him: the golden-eyed boy had stabbed him. The boy with the angel blood had used his wimpy little dagger… to stab him._

_A wave of astonishment claimed him a second before the darkness did._

A pain in his chest… his lungs screaming for air…

Jonathan whipped his head out of the river water. He spewed a stream of the murky liquid before freezing in shock. He was dead—this must be hell… no, hell couldn't have fresh breezes carrying faint hints of pine and damp earth. But… the boy had stabbed him… it was a clean shot, perfect aim…

Jonathan lifted a soaking wet hand gloved in mud to his chest.

There was no beat.

His fingers curled around the front of his tee shirt and he ripped the ruined fabric from his body. Again, he pressed his palm to the middle of his chest.

Nothing.

The steady thumping was gone, silenced forever. A sinister smile cracked his scared face. His demon blood had pulled through for him yet again. He rolled to his knees, then soggily to his feet. Lifting his chin, he could see the lights of Angel Square. Fireworks blossomed in the starry sky. The people of Idris were _celebrating_. That could only mean…

Valentine was dead.

Jonathan felt no loss, no grief for his father's death. He had lost such useless emotions with the beat of his heart. All he experienced, as he watched the Shadowhunters and Downworlders celebrate together, was a huge adrenaline rush. It flowed through him, to touch his every nerve, to power his aching muscles in a crazy surge…

His father was out of the way. The Shadowhunters thought Jonathan to be dead. Oh, the opportunities were endless.

Jonathan picked the leaves out of his fair hair, letting them get whisked away by the wind. First thing's first, he sorted through in his head, he needed his ring. His pathetic sister had no right to wear such a powerful object so casually. _He_ did. He suspected she wouldn't give it up willingly, though… fine, one more death, what did he care.

He couldn't help but utter a ruthless laugh before taking off down the muddy slope to the merrily lit city miles below.


	2. Blindfolded

**Hello again!  
****Apparently the first chapter hasn't scared you off, so here's the #2. This is a realllllly long chapter, so I've split it into two tidy parts. The second part is going up after 3 (count them: 3) reviews are left for this part. That's one from each of three different people. And please, say something about the story in them! Did you like it? Not like it? Room for improvement? (well, of course there is, but anything in specific?)  
****Anyway, starts right after the ending of CoG, after a feast served in celebration. Starts with a doodle, ends with a lovely make-out scene (three little reviews…).  
****Super long A/N, sorry, so get on with it and read the chapter!  
****Topsy**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Cassandra Clare's characters… or her settings… or her other fabulous creations… I just control their fates in my stories.**

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Clary doodled absent-mindedly on her napkin. It wasn't until she was almost finished did she realize she was drawing Jace's hand in extreme detail. She had captured the hints of the scars that ran across his skin, the cracked skin on his knuckles, even the pinky fingernail - how it was shorter than all the rest. She was about to start in on his wrist when something grabbed to end of her pencil. She'd recognize those fingers anywhere. Her eyes followed them up to a slender hand, to his wrist, up to his heavily Marked arm to his rounded shoulder, and finally his beautifully composed face. The edges of his perfect lips curved up in amusement. "Clary… Earth to Clary, do you read me?"

She nodded dumbly. With one brief glance around the golden hall, she could tell that the dinner was over and Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike were getting up in pairs and small groups to head home. Clary pushed herself away from the long dining table and stood from the golden chair she'd been seated in. It was now purely black outside the Hall's open doors and the witchlit room seemed warm and lazy in the summer air.

Jace reached over and brushed a stray ringlet from Clary's face. "You look tired," he commented softly.

Clary uttered a half-hearted laugh. "Look who's talking."

Jace's face was lined with signs of exhaustion. There were deep circles under his eyes, which were weary and content. His normally perfect hair was now slightly ruffled and disshelved, giving him the appearance of someone who'd been up for days. And he watched her as if she was the bane of his existence, as if his world revolved around her… which was exactly how she felt about him.

A strange look lit up Jace's features, and after a moment of no explanation, Clary was forced to inquire, "What?"

"I have a surprise for you," his voice wallowed in confidence in her future delight.

"Oh? And is there… an occasion?" Clary teased him.

He ran the back of his hand along her jaw, and she closed her eyes and savored the feel of his touch.

"You don't know?" his voice murmered in her ear.

Clary opened her eyes in confusion. "Should I?"

Jace just chuckled and laced his fingers in hers. He led her out of the Hall and past the gurgling fountain in Angel Square. Clary gave a small gasp as he took a sudden change of direction, tugging her toward a deserted park bench off to the side. From his coat pocket he pulled a soft, not-quite-fabric-but-not-quite-paper napkin. She recognized it as one of the ones they had used at dinner.

She had so many questions for him, but the one that spilled from her mouth was, "You are going to return that, aren't you?"

He smiled mischievously and stepped closer to her. "Apparently it's okay to _draw_ on them, but not steal them?"

She was about to reply, but his hands had shot up to her face with Shadowhunter speed. It took her a moment to realize that his fingers working behind her head were tying a knot. Jace drew back with a satisfied grunt.

"Jace!" Clary brought a hand up to tug the makeshift blindfold off, but he was faster. His hands wrapped around her wrists like manacles, and his breath was suddenly on her face. "Just trust me with this one, okay?"

Her reply died in her throat as his lips touched gently to hers. She moaned and fumbled forward, hungry for more. Jace smiled against her lips and drew back. "Later. I promise."

She moaned again, but this time in an annoyed fashion.

"Now c'mon, your surprise awaits." Again, his hand found hers and he lead her down the dimly lit streets of Alicante. She fumbled blindly in his wake, occasionally tripping over a sidewalk ledge or a stray branch. He always caught her before she hid the ground, so she had no fear of hurting herself.

She could hear faint voices wafting from what must have been houses lining the road. Some had soft music or cheery singing. She could smell the freshly baked cookies of one home, and the chicken from another. She didn't know how long they walked, and din't mind either, because she had Jace's hand twined with hers, and the sleepy city to experience in the pitch-black of her blindfold.

She continued a few steps after Jace stopped. He whispered in her ear, "Stand right here. Don't move. I'll be right back." She made to remove the blindfold, but before she could even get a peak, Jace's hand was on hers, tugging it back into place. "Not yet, silly. Now _stay_." She listened to his footsteps grow fainter.

Inhaling, she picked up the crisp smell of plant life and fresh soil.

In the distance, Jace was apparently talking with someone. Clary could hear the murmur of his voice, clipped in with another, familiar voice. She could've sworn it was… Magnus? Magnus Bane… she'd thought he would have been with Alec tonight, what with they're being _together_ together now.

She didn't have time to ponder this, though, because Jace was back, and he was once again leading her onward. They didn't go very far until he stopped her and told her to take a big step forward on the count of three.

"One…" Clary could have sworn the next little gust of wind smelled just like the dank streets of Manhattan.

"Two…" Jace's hand tensed around her's.

"Three!" She obediently surged forward as she felt Jace do the same beside her. She left her stomach in Alicante as the urgent pull of a portal made her gasp in surprise. She clung to Jace's hand for dear life in the swirling chaos of it all. Before she knew it, her feet hit hard ground and she collapsed into Jace's expectant arms.

The air wasn't crisp and fresh as Alicante's was, but shockingly familiar… with hints of asphalt, metal, and gasoline. New York air.

"Jace…" she began, finding her feet.

His hands gripped her shoulders and he spun her around before ripping off the blindfold. She was positioned to be squarely facing a towering Gothic cathedreal, both her and Jace standing on its tidy walk to the huge front doors.

"The _Institute_?" She felt her jaw drop.

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**Sorry if I got any settings wrong, or if the characters are OOC… I don't have a copy of CoB handy. So, why did Jace take Clary to the Institute? What's the occasion? Find out after three lovely people review. You could even be one of those people. I have the second part… already written… just waiting to post…  
****Topsy**


	3. Being Together

**One, two, three…**

**Thanks a million and three! Here you go!**

**Note: For those of you who would prefer not to read about **_**just**_** how much Clary and Jace love each other, feel free to stop at "…of her dead brother and father". Assume what you may.**

**Topsy**

**Disclaimer: If I was Cassandra Clare, I would not be writing FanFics. So Jace isn't mine… neither are Clary or Simon any other snippets that give you a strange sense of déjà vu.**

**Also, a little reminder of what just happened:**

_His hands gripped her shoulders and he spun her around before ripping off the blindfold. She was positioned to be squarely facing a towering Gothic church, both her and Jace standing on the tidy walk to the huge front doors._

"_The _Institute_?"_

"Darn, I meant to take you to LegoLand…."

She smacked his shoulder. "Seriously, Jace, what's going on? A portal? Do you know how weird it is to go through a portal unexpededly? What are you doing? You're in on it, Magnus is in on it, I don't get why you—"

He silenced her lips with is. "Clary. Did I not say to trust me on this one?"

She sighed, dropping her arms helplessly to her sides. "Well, get on with it, then."

She was rewarded with a well-deserved kiss.

Again, Jace was the first to pull away. "Like I said, _later_." His eyes didn't say _later_, though. His eyes said, _now, now now_!

After being excepted as Shadowhunters to gain entrance to the towering building, the couple slipped through the familiar doorway and stood on the ancient rug as the Witchlight light fixtures blazed to life. Sitting squarely in the middle of the entryway was none other than a slightly thinner, droopier whiskered Church.

Clary ran to him and dropped to her knees. "Church… oh, you poor _thing_! Has anybody been feeding you?" As if on cue, a mouse scuttled across the hallway to their left. "I see. Fend-for-yourselfer, are you now?" Clary stroked the cat's unusual blue fur, allowing him to purr like a motorcycle and rub up against her thighs.

Jace cleared his throat audibly. "Church, is anyone here?" He pulled to Clary to her feet. Clary didn't catch any signal of an answer from the cat, but apparently Jace did, because he snatched her hand with a sharp, "Good," and took off, sprinting down the hallway. Clary was towed along with him, panting to keep up with his long strides.

They raced past Isabelle's room, where Izzy had dressed her for the party at which Simon turned into a rat, Alec's room, blank as a new piece of paper, a few rooms that she'd never seen anyone use, the room she and Simon had stayed in when they had been here, where Simon had yelled at her that he loved her, and Jace's room, where Clary had pulled a cup out of a drawing. They passed the kitchen where Clary had been acquainted with Isabelle's cooking, the library, where Hodge's desk sported a thin layer a dust, and the weapons room, which looked like it hadn't been touched in ages. That left…

Jace threw the glass door open with one hand and pulled Clary inside with the other. The smell was a refreshing change from the musty stench of the hallways. The plants were spilling out of their pots, extending across the floor to trip whoever might venture in. Dead leaves scattered the ground. Clary drifted over to a partially overgrown bench and sank down gratefully onto its surface.

Jace had wandered to the middle of the room. "_Now_ can you guess the occasion?" His cheeks were flushed from the run up there, while Clary was still working to catch her breath.

"Has it really bee a whole year?" she whispered, after regaining her voice.

He closed the space between them in three easy strides. "To the day," he answered smugly.

"Really… oh my God," her wandering gaze had caught on something glinting in the moonlight. A knife, with the gross remains of apple juice on it's blade. "You never picked it up," she noticed blandly.

"Hmm,"

She turned to see Jace watching her intently. She smiled as he threw his arm around her waist. Squarely in her view from the bench, was a hanging basket covered in sleek green buds. The déjà vu washed over her in a colossal wave as she listened to the mournful throng of a bell tower echo through the city and watched the buds unfold into all their glory.

Jace's lips brushed her ear. "Happy Birthday, Clarrissa Fray."

She didn't care that that wasn't her name; it sounded so much better than Morgenstern, which she regarded as a dark reminder of her dead brother and father.

She turned to look up at Jace's smiling face. "Is it later yet?"

His response was wrapping his arms around her and kissing her with something that was close to violence. She was surprised for a split second, her lips unresponsive under his. For, quite literally, a _split second_. She poured all her joy, all her relief of finding Jace's real parents, and how they were different than hers, into their kiss. She marveled at how perfectly their lips moved together, as if they were created just for each other. A very small part of her brain noted how different this was from Simon's kiss. That was just sweet, an easy thing to get excited about. But this… her heart pounded against his, and a warm, smoldering adrenaline rush surged through her veins.

They rolled off the bench and onto the leaf-strewn floor. Jace's hand moved to the small of her back, bowing her body against his. His other was on her hip, rubbing small circles on her skin. Clary was exploring the contours of his back (the same very small part of her brain wondered how his shirt had come off) while curling his silky hair in her fingers. She hooked her legs around his waist, earning a feral growl from Jace's throat. His mouth slid down her collarbone and up her other shoulder. They caught on the collar of her shirt. She gasped, and Jace drew back, scanning her face for any signs of his hurting her. As he watched, a feral smile bloomed on her face and she yanked his mouth back to her's. She was already working with the buttons on her shirt, having completely committed herself to enjoying the rest of the night.

**Ah, yes, what a great birthday present.**

**Anyway, hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And if you did, then you'd REVIEW. No reviews, no more story… take the ten seconds to leave me some love. Oh, and sorry if Clary's birthday isn't "correct" (wrong season, whatnot) but like I said, I don't have a copy of CoB handy to use as a reference.**

**Topsy**


	4. Becoming

**So… you've returned.**

**Just because this story is already jumping around, this chapter jumps to our good friend Simon, and all his **_**issues**_**. Not my favorite chappie. R&R because honestly, nothin' to lose, all to gain.**

**Topsy**

**Disclaimer: Despite my best wishes, TMI still isn't mine…. It's the writing genius Cassandra Clare's.**

Three stains.

_Minor._

Two holes.

_They're both very small._

A… rat hair?

_Um, yuck._

Simon tossed aside the green tee shirt he'd been inspecting with a sigh. He was down to three shirts that he could even consider taking with him back to New York. All the rest were blood stained, torn, dirt-soden from digging out of a grave, or stained with who knows what. A navy blue suitcase lay open on his bed, courtesy of the Lightwoods. His belongings barely covered the bottom.

He eyed the green shirt again before snatching it and tossing it in the suitcase. Compared to the likes of the rest of the rejected clothes, it was pristine.

He realized with another drawn-out and completely pointless sigh that his wardrobe desperately needed a shopping trip. And there was no way he could sneak out to the local mall without a certain person finding out and demanding to come along.

Isabelle.

Simon ran a hand through his hair. Isabelle had seemed so new, so different when he first met her. She was the exciting new thing. The shiny new toy. Then he'd plucked up the courage to try and compete with Jace for Clary… until he'd figured out he was barking up the wring tree. And Isabelle now… she was clever, dangerous, and cleverly, dangerously beautiful. Simon felt as if she was a vital link to the Shadowhunter world, as Clary was off to train with Jace. She would be the one to write to him, he was sure, and send him fire messages every other day, just to "see how he was doing". Because, she obviously liked him. No doubting that. But (and this part was all shockingly new for Simon) there were actually more than one girl who liked him. And possibly even more, he thought smugly, because as Clary had said, he was so much _hotter_ now.

He was excited to see Eric and the band again, and to get back into the swing of his normal life, but a small part of him worried if it would seem so very dull after… all this. Not to mention his being dead. That was a minor detail he might mention sometime…

A quiet knock on his door yanked him from his ponderings.

"It's Maia," a female voice called from the hall.

"Oh! Um, yeah, come in."

A brunette head poked around the door. Maia smiled at the sight of Simon sitting on the old quilt with a disgusting looking green shirt on his lap.

"Hi." Simon's vampire hearing picked up the quickened thr-umping of Maia's heart. It was somehow… mischievous. As if she had just stolen the last cookie from the cookie jar.

"Packing?" her gaze raked over the suitcase and the mountain of ruined clothes. She plucked a pair of jeans off the top. "Now how do you manage to wear the entire front of your jeans down to the thread?" she referred to the lace-like front of the pants, where only a few threads held the legs in cylindrical shapes.

"Easy. You turn into a rat, get kidnapped by vampires, are saved by your best friend and Romeo the airhead, fly off on one of the vampire's motorcycles, and have the dufus in the driver's seat remember only then that the thing can't run in daylight, hence an epic crash scene in a parking lot, during which you miraculously turned human, wearing those jeans, and rub them to the nilly on the disgusting asphalt."

She raised her eyebrows. "Impressive. Of course, the whole turning-into-an-animal thing isn't new news here, but a _rat_? Yuck."

They laughed together.

Still laughing, Maia sauntered across the room to sit next to Simon on the bed. He noticed how little space she left between them, even though there was plenty of room on the bed. Their laughter died out slowly, both of them hyper-aware of how their shoulders touched. After an awkward silent moment, Simon asked tentatively, "What's it like? Being a wolf?"

Maia studied the light fixture on the ceiling. "Um, well… it's really… well, I personally feel… really _free_ when I'm a wolf. Powerful. Strong, and fast, and… beautiful." She blushed, bowing her head so her hair fell around her face. "I meant slick. I meant to say slick."

"No you didn't," Simon murmured. Again with the pounding heart. Why? "Everybody has their own way of being, like, special, right? For Clary, it's her drawings. For Jace, it's being a jerk. And for you…"

"…it's being a mutant girl-dog," she moaned. "Anyway, some people don't even need any special talent. They're just guy magnets by existing…"

"Maia?" Simon leaned down to try and decipher her expression behind her curtain of hair.

"Yeah?"

"I think mutant girl-dogs are really cool."

Her head snapped around to face his. He was very aware of her breath washing over his cheeks, how her nose was inches from his. He found his hand on her jaw, almost to his surprise.

"Really?" she breathed, sliding her eyes half-shut.

"Mhm."

She leaned slowly in; her lips millimeters from his...

In his mind, Simon saw Isabelle, cheeks tear-streaked, eyes red. The same mischievous smile was set on her lips that had been on Maia's minutes ago. It was the smile Izzy had shot him the night she'd locked herself in her room, because of Max, and she'd let him, only him, in… it was the night when they'd…

Simon moved his hand that had been on Maia's cheek to her chin. Gently but firmly, he turned her head slightly and brushed his lips to her cheek.

"I have to go," he murmured in her ear.

He stood and hastily zipped up his practically empty suitcase. Without another glance at Maia, he rolled his luggage out of the room and out the front door.

Had he stood in the room a second longer, he might have noticed the one, shining tear rolling down Maia's cheek.

**Poor girl.**

**I personally felt like the characters were a bit OOC, but then again I never really "clicked" with Simon's character, and Maia's supposed to act all funky (somebody's got a cru-ush…). And please someone tell me what color Maia's hair is! I said it was brunette, but that's just what I thought... But please tell me what you think! Critiques are welcome! Review, review, review!**

**Topsy**

**P.S.**

**Next chapter actually has a plot that isn't a kissing scene. So stay tuned!**


	5. Be Gone!

**Simon got two chapters in a row! What a lucky duck!**

**Bear with me, I promise the end gets more exciting. Oh, and sorry if there's typo's or choppiness, this is barely a second draft. I just wanted to post!**

**Topsy**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI. That's all Cassandra Clare. Neither do I own the briefly mention clothing companies… but I do wear their stuff ******

"_Isabelle, I need to go shopping_. Wait, no… _Isabelle, will you take me shopping_?"

Simon sighed and ran a hand through his ruffled hair, watching himself in the oddly reflective window. "Okay… _Hey Izzy, do you know where the nearest mall is_? No, that would never slide!" He kicked a pebble in frustration, sending it skipping across the ancient road.

He was standing outside the dark blue house of the Penhallow's. He'd been practicing his little speech for the past ten minutes, to much frustration and no avail. The sun was almost directly overhead, declaring it to be about noon. If he was going to get in a shopping trip before sundown, he had to get his act together and take the first step.

After briefly fixing his hair in the window, he straightened his shoulders and strode down the small walk to the oak front door. Merry voices and chorusing laughter wafted through the walls. The laughter still rung in the air when he rapped his knuckles against the wood, making a satisfyingly loud sound. Footsteps grew from quiet to more sharp and defined, and the door was wrenched open by a smug-looking Alec.

"Uh.. is Isabelle home?" Simon asked, feeling incredibly dorky.

"Yeah. She's… yeah," the smug smile was wiped off his face and replaced by his usual half-blank, half-bored composure.

Simon couldn't help but to feel relieved when Isabelle came bouncing down the hall behind her brother. Her eyes grew momentarily wide at the sight of Simon on her doorstep, before she pushed Alec aside and threw her arms around Simon, pulling him into a tight squeeze. His vampire hearing picked up Magnus' voice, calling from the living room; "Alec, darling, I don't know about you, but I'm personally quite bored with all this blab. My place, hmm?"

Magnus' glittering form emerged from the end of the hall, and he swung an arm around Alec's waist while eyeing Simon as if he were an unpleasant smear on his shiny red boots. "Ah… rat boy. How very _nice_ to see you."

Before Simon could reply, Magnus had pulled Alec around Isabelle and the couple was taking off down the road.

"Oh, please, Simon, don't take that personally. He's been bitchy all day. At least he's with Alec now. That normally sets him in a better mood."

"Uh, yeah. Hey, look… I came over here because… I was packing for home this morning, and I realized I didn't have, like, a huge wardrobe. And so… I kinda need to—"

"Go shopping?" she cut in excitedly.

"Yeah."

"Oh, walk with me, walk with me! Where're your bags? We have so much to cover!" she squealed and looped her arm through his.

He dutifully described the place where he was staying, and they walked together down the busy streets. She bombarded him with questions about his appearance—what colors did he wear, what cut were his jeans, how he desperately needed a haircut, and why does he wear those dorky glasses?

When they arrived at the small cottage, Isabelle pulled Simon to a stop on the doorstep. She smacked the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Of course! They're, like, no malls here, much less a good American Eagle or Aeropostale. So…" she turned to face him and squealed, "I'll come with you!"

He just stared at her blankly while she leaned in to give his cheek a peck. She acted like it was the most obvious thing in the world… It was, of course, at that exact moment that Maia burst through the front door, face red and cheeks damp.

She collided painfully with Simon. "Oh! I'm so sorry—didn't see you there…" she didn't meet his eyes and had brushed past him before he could reassure her that it was his fault and whatnot.

Isabelle crinkled her nose. "Isn't that—the wolf girl?"

"The very one," Simon grumbled under his breath, eyes locked on Maia's back as she hurried away.

"Okay… um, _awk_-ward," Isabelle giggled tentatively. After a moment with no response from Simon, she pulled him into the house by his arm.

.;!;.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.

"So, we're down to…" Isabelle's eyes swept across the open suitcase and the pile of clothes. "…nothing."

Simon brought his hands up to rub his face. He was lying across the narrow way of the bed, his legs hanging off the end. What he had thought would be a ten-minute swipe through had turned into a three-hour "Insult Simon's Clothes" event.

"Well, I guess it's better that way, with a clean slate and all," Isabelle rubbed her chin thoughtfully, still inspecting the pile of discarded clothes.

Simon just groaned and pulled himself into a sitting position, the springs of the old bed protesting loudly. He glanced out the small window to see the sun just above the horizon, threatening to sink out of sight. "Well, Magnus said to meet him in the park at sundown tonight. We should get going."

"Right. I've called Alec already and had him pack up all the stuff I brought—which isn't that much, really—so all we have to do is swing by my place and head to the park before it's back to the big NY for us!"

Simon rubbed a hand over the ancient quilt, feeling the raised stitching and the different textures of the fabrics. "How 'bout instead, you go back to the Penhallow's, and I'll meet you in the park." He didn't look up at her while her spoke, and his voice was dry.

"Um… okay!" she agreed willingly enough. "Give me a head start. Meet you in a few!" She swirled out of the room, and it wasn't long before Simon heard the front door slam.

He slumped into a comfortable slouch, glad to be finally alone. He like Isabelle's company and all, just—get her started on clothes, and you were sunk. Simon marveled in the fact that he was going home, at last. Even though he was different now—what with being dead and all—didn't mean, he hoped, that he couldn't lead a regular life. Well, maybe not completely regular. He did have the extra hotness factor…

.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.

The walk to the park was pleasant… oddly peaceful. Simon's new extra-sharp senses just drank in the summer night, and the crisp air carrying cooler breezes, and the sounds of his footfalls on the hard-packed road. He closed his eyes and let the gentle wind just wash over his face, through his hair and press against his body. Hands shoved in pockets, he walked with a certain air of confidence he knew he hadn't had when he was human. Now he walked taller, instead of slouching his shoulders inwards, and wasn't afraid to look people in the eye, instead of avoiding everyone's gaze.

Magnus was leaning against an ancient-looking tree, one knee bent to press his foot against its trunk. He looked up from examining his colorful nails to take in Simon's form, then went back to his inspecting. "Where're your bags, Ratboy? Not that it wouldn't be a favor to the world if your wardrobe was accidentally burned to smithereens…"

"Ha ha. I guess it's your lucky day, O High Warlock, 'cuz Isabelle trashed all my stuff." He came to a halt in from of the other man, arms folded over his chest.

"When is your girlfriend going to be here? She's late… or you're early… for a reason." It wasn't a question.

"What—no, I'm not ditching her! And she isn't my girlfriend," he muttered. A warm blush crept up his neck when Magnus raised his eyebrows at him.

"Hi, guys!" Isabelle's voice came from behind Simon. He turned to see her lugging a suitcase in each hand, plus another squeezed under her arm.

Magnus started working on the portal while Simon offered to take some of Isabelle's luggage. About five minutes later, Simon and Isabelle stood side-by-side in from of the colorfully swirling portal. Magnus placed a hand on his hip and leaned on one leg. "Gosh, between you and the dumb blond, you owe me a lot. Portals aren't easy, you know. They take a lot of my precious energy, which I would rather be using _elsewhere_…How are you going to pay for this, Ratboy? In cheese?"

"Oh, please, Magnus, it's a favor." Izzy puckered her lip. "For me?"

Magnus rolled his cat eyes.

"Okay—how bout for me as Alec's dear sister?"

The warlock sighed, but nodded reluctantly.

"'Kay, Simon, move when I do," she commanded.

Simon fixed his gaze on the middle of the portal, waiting for a signal.

Her "signal" was to yank him with her into the confusion of time and space.

Simon was annoyed for a moment. No "go!". No "on three". But before he could get really pissed, an irresistible pull yanked him in the opposite direction. Isabelle's suitcase tore from his grasp, and he was dragged off to a different destination…

.:!:.:!:.:!:.;!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.

He hit what felt like marble floor with the force of an elephant sitting on his gut. His head rapped painfully against the ground, and his vision started to get fuzzy and blotch up. But before it went totally black, he saw a figure leaning over him… someone with dark eyes, fair hair, and a horrible smile…

Jonathan.

**Mostly a transition chappie, I know. Nothing too exciting… until the end. But hey! Next chapter just might get some more coverage of my personal favorite couple…. Clary and Jaceness galore.**

**Here's an interesting fact: When I'm happy, the writing juices flow beautifully. And ya know what would make me happy? Reviews. Critiques, especially. I know I'm getting the characters a bit wrong (Magnus is just impossible for me)… would you agree? Disagree? Well, leave me a review and let me know.**

**Topsy**


	6. Brittle

**Sorry for the wait! Begeezles, so many things get in the way of FanFic-ing. Like life. Darn!**

**Anyway, here's the promised Clary/Jace chappie. Not as fluffy, but really, we're gonna need to face the fact that we need a plot sometime or other, right? Oh, and there's some minor **_**Breaking Dawn**_** influence in this one. Just in a **_**Twilight**_**y mood, I guess! Enjoy!**

**-Topsy**

**Disclaimer: Just like the past five chapters, these characters and settings and whole freaking world isn't mine. Consult Cassandra Clare for complaints with those aspects of the story. And thanks to my peachy comment above, I guess I have to say **_**Breaking Dawn**_** and **_**Twilight**_** are Stephanie Meyer's, and I'm not trying to steal them.**

Sharp sunlight cut through the old room, revealing the dust motes whirling in the air. It was toasty warm under the duvet cover, and Clary pulled a fistful of sheets closer to her face in an attempt to lock herself to the bed. She heard a faint chuckle, and cracked open her crusty eyes to see an angel watching her with golden eyes.

_Her_ angel. Jace.

His lips were quirked into an amused smile, the same one he'd worn the night at the feast. That had to be... last night?

"Jace," she croaked.

"Hmm?"

"What day is it?"

He laughed softly. "Two days from the celebration."

"That long? Really? So… we slept for a whole day?"

"I wouldn't use the word 'slept', exactly…" Jace leaned in to gently kiss her slightly parted lips. Clary felt the warmth of a blush in her cheeks. "But yes," he concluded, "we've been here for a while."

Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Clary creaked into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. Now that she thought about it, she didn't remember leaving the greenhouse, neither had she ever seen this room before. But then again, the Institute did have a lot of rooms… Jace had just managed to find one with a queen-sized bed.

A warm hand found her chin and Jace turned her face to be almost touching his. He trailed his lips up and down her jaw, giving Clary cool shivers down her spine.

"Where are we?" she murmured.

Jace didn't stop his kisses, but whispered against her skin, "Fourth floor, third hall from the left, fifth door on the right."

Clary was momentarily impressed by how well he knew the Institute, but then she reminded herself that he'd grown up in this building. He'd probably memorized its layout. She wound a lock of golden hair around her finger, admiring its silkiness. Jace moaned low in his throat and lifted his chin to lock his mouth to hers.

Clary wouldn't feel deprived if she didn't do anything else in life but kiss Jace. It was the best sensation, such amazing energy flowing through him to her… she'd never tire of it. But her body had other ideas.

She reluctantly pulled away from her angel, answering the quizzical look on his face with a sharp, "I have to pee." It _had_ been 48 hours, after all.

He sighed and let her disentangle herself from his arms.

Her hair bounced around her face as she skipped to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror told her that sometime in the last day or so, she'd put on a cami she didn't recognize, and sweats that bunched around her ankles. She bent over to roll up the fabric around her shins, wondering where she'd gotten the Insta-Clothes.

It felt good to wash cool water over her face. She realized with slight disgust that sweat stuck her hair to her forehead and temples. Another blushed was triggered by the thought of _exercise_.

She cupped some water in her hands and poured it on top of her head. She didn't mind how it dripped on her bare shoulders. It actually felt good. She finally gave up and decided to take a full-on shower, to get all the way clean. Anyway, it wasn't like Jace couldn't survive on his own for ten minutes.

Clary returned to the room they'd used with a towel wrapped around her. She had realized that, really, she didn't have anything to change into.

A twinge of disappointment leaked into her when, upon arriving back at their room, Jace was standing shirtless in from of the small wardrobe, fixing the fly on his jeans.

"Are we going somewhere?" Clary hoped she didn't sound like she was complaining.

"Yeah—I just remembered Maryse wanted to start you training today—in…" he glanced at the small clock on the wall. "About twenty minutes."

Clary nearly dropped the towel she gripped at her chest. "_Twenty minutes_? We're supposed to be in Idris in _twenty minutes_?"

"Good listening. Now, as cute as you are in that towel, I don't think you can go hurtling through time and space in it. Here." He tossed her a bundle of black and gray fabric. "They were mine when I was, like, ten. They might be big on you," he smirked.

Clary snatched at the clothes and slipped them on as best she could. The dark wash jeans fit pretty well, she noticed in surprise, but the dark grey shirt… not so flattering. She put her hands on her hips and watched herself in the full-length mirror. _Whatever_, she thought, _I'll change as soon as I have access to female clothes_.

Jace cleared his throat, standing in the petite doorway. "Clary…"

She didn't miss the hint of stress in his voice. She almost laughed. Jace and his priorities. Fighting nightmare-ish demons? No problem. Being late to Maryse's lessons? Enough to make him shift from foot to foot in anxiety.

"Let's go." Clary breezed by Jace, snatching his hand in the process. They set off down the twisted hallways, Jace leading Clary with a squeeze of the fingers or a bump of the elbow. They passed Church on the way out the huge doors. The cat sat in the entryway and watched them leave with sorrowful eyes.

"You got your stele?" Jace asked hurriedly. Clary checked herself over briefly before swearing colorfully (something she'd picked up from her boyfriend), and fixed her apologetic gaze in his eyes. He caught on in a second, and used a word that put Clary's vocabulary to shame as he tore down the walkway and burst through the doors.

"And the dress!" she called after him. She must've been having a brain blank for the past ten minutes. To have left her stele _and_ the dress? Udder stupidity, she decided. She sighed and leaned awkwardly against the wrought-iron fence to wait for Jace. But about three seconds after she'd settled, he was back, slamming the doors behind him. Clary could just barely hear Church's startled yowl from inside.

"Wha—how did you get there and back so… so…" she trailed off, watching him with wide eyes. The walk down had taken them about seven minutes… Even while running, Jace couldn't have made it back in _thirty five seconds_. He just shook his head, grinning, and thrust the mob of silver liquid-like fabric into her arms.

"Angel blood. I can run," he tossed her the stele, "_really_ fast."

Delight sparkled in his eyes at his new discovery. Clary had just barely recovered from the impact of this news when he coughed and shuffled his feet pointedly.

"Portal. Got it." She set to work, Jace standing by, still pumped with his adrenaline rush.

As soon as the doorway glowed to life, Jace launched through it, towing a half-laughing Clary behind him.

.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.

The couple burst through the Penhallow's doorway, panting from the sprint on the way there. Still connected by the hands, they picked their way down the narrow hall and whirled into the living room, where their upbeat mood clashed incredibly with the rather hostile air lingering there.

Maryse sat on an ancient-looking couch with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Her mouth was a tight line, and her glossy shoe tapped the ground sharply in a fast beat. Robert, Alec, and (to Clary's surprise) Magnus occupied one of the large armchairs and a worn loveseat across the room from Maryse's stiff form.

"Jace. You're twenty minutes late. Excuses? Please. Humor me." Her voice was sharp and demanding, like her tapping foot.

"Well, we took a bit to… get ready. Then I found out I have more super powers. Then Clary's portal left us in the park, 'bout nine blocks down. So, yeah, I misjudged the time. My bad."

The men in the room had perked at "super powers", but Maryse seemed uninterested. "Right. Well, you're here now, and that's what matters. Clary, dear, have a seat." She smiled, a bit stiffly, up at Clary. Clary inched her way to the seat closest to the door and perched on the lip of the battered cushion. She took a quiet deep breath and folded her hands in her lap awkwardly.

"Jace," Maryse's tone was back to that of a scolding mother's. "Go get the supplies in the kitchen. Don't drop the books, they're older than your great grandpa."

Jace shot Clary an apologetic look and shrugged out if the room, hands shoved in pockets.

"So, Clary," Maryse started, relaxing a bit, "Let's start with the basics. What do you know about the heroic symbols in Shadowhunter history?"

Clary groaned internally. So they would be _these_ kinds of lessons.

**Soooo? Happy readers? Sad readers? Ninja readers? Let me know with that awesome green button right below this text. (Here's a fun tip- it turns orange when you roll over it- just like how you're gonna roll over it in about… two…seconds…)**

**Topsy**


	7. Bears

**Hello, loyal readers!**

**Sorry bout the long wait… Life's so busy right now. But it's here now, right? Enjoy!**

**Topsy**

"And who is possibly the most well-known Shadowhunter mind in history?"

"Partriag Imes."

"Very good. And what makes him so unforgettable?"

"His revisions of the Angel Blade."

"Correct. Please read pages one ninety two through two ten for homework, and consider some of Imes' theories in more recent inventions. You're dismissed."

After Mayrse had swept out of the room, Clary sighed and collapsed into the worn couch. She watched the dust motes that the couch puffed out swirl, and tried not to think of how much she absolutely _hated_ homework. Shadowhunter school wasn't much more exciting than mundane school, she'd been disappointed to find out. Lots of names and dates. The numbers reached back further than her mundane history classes had mentioned, probably because they only taught American students about American history. And Europeans, when they stuck their toes in our revolution. Some Asian…

Shadowhunters didn't divide themselves up like that. They didn't have all those racial rules of where you were from or the color of your skin. All Shadowhunters descended from the Angel, and that was kin enough for them.

_Us, not them_, Clary corrected herself. She _was_ part of this mysterious group. This was _her_ history she studied.

Clary took a deep breath, inhaling the cozily musty scent of the Penhallow's house. At least she had combat training next. That was her favorite class, and not because it was anti-mundane, or because it never had any homework… she loved combat training because she loved the teacher.

Newly optimistic, Clary gathered her pile of thousand year old text books and heaved them off down the hall and up the squeaky stairs, to her small blue room. The house sat atop a small slope, giving it the leverage for the second story windows to overlook the rooftops of the homey buildings of Idris. Clary loved her view of the park, and would watch the sparrows flutter from tree to tree and chirp cheerily to each other. People would walk hand in hand, or watch their kids run squealing around the ancient trees. It was a calming sight to wake up to.

Clary dumped the books on her light blue quilt and took off down the stairs and out the back door. The yard was flat and grassy, and beyond it a thin woods stretched until the next house. Mayrse's garden was neatly taken care of, and sat off to the side to avoid getting trampled by Clary's lessons. The yard was cute, sure. Maybe even pretty. But not beautiful. Not angelic, or otherworldly, or…

Jace turned to meet her gaze, leaving her breath caught in her throat. It was a stupid reaction, she knew, but she'd quickly realized it was inevitable. Tough.

"So, Mr. Teacher, sir, what are we going to learn today?" She shifted her weight to one leg and put a hand on her hip.

Jace smirked. "Young, inexperienced, imprintable student, we're going to learn about getting out of sticky situations." He beckoned her forward. "Now, you're hunting with your companion," he jerked his chin towards a sad looking teddy bear on the grass in the shadows of the trees, "who has been isolated by your enemy. You have no weapons," Clary grudgingly removed the thin knife sheathed in her boot, "so you have to take him on hand to hand." Clary nodded, imagining the tense situation. "Your opponent is human, or has human form. Not a demon. He's bigger and stronger than you. And he's fast. Not to mention devastatingly handsome." Jace skipped out of kicking range before Clary could land a blow. Still chuckling, he asked, "Got it?"

"Get past big handsome guy and save my pal. Got it."

"Alright. Three, two, one…"

Clary adopted a fighting stance, looking for a hole in Jace's guard. Unsurprisingly, she came up empty handed. So she faked left, making him adjust his feet just slightly, and dashed for the open hole he left. She smiled to herself as her fingers reached out for the teddy…

And was slammed to the ground. Jace rolled her onto her back and held her wrists in one of his hands, the back of her head with the other. "And then," he said in her ear (he wasn't even panting), "your enemy would proceed to smash your face into the ground. He finds a good rock, and bam, you're dead."

Clary moaned.

Jace rolled off and pulled her to her feet. "Try again? Or does the gorgeous bad guy kidnap you and never give you back?"

Clary bowed her head so her hair curtained her blush. "That would leave my companion dead. I'll try again."

Jace smiled and took up his ready stance. This time Clary went to jam his nose with the heel of her hand, but missed as he dodged lightning-fast around her attempt. He pinned her up against the nearest tree, his hands securing her shoulders so her feet were about a foot off the ground. Clary kicked and squirmed, but it didn't help.

"Clary," Jace said calmly. She stopped squirming.

"Your strength won't get you anywhere in this situation. _Think_."

She thought.

Then she brought her knee up as hard as she could and hit her target with perfect aim. She bounced past Jace, who was crumpled on the ground clutching the remains of his manhood, and snatched the teddy from his miserable corner with a smirk.

"I win." She put a hand on her hip, swinging the teddy from one finger.

"I… applaud you." Jace got to his feet, wincing. "That's probably your best bet. Hit clearly, and hit hard." He staggered over to her, half-bent at the waist.

"Thank you, Mr. Teacher, sir."

"Anytime." Clary gasped slightly as Jace threw his "mortally injured" act to the wind and sprang to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She laughed as he pulled her to his chest, but was cut off by a sudden kiss. She bit his lower lip, making him jolt a bit before Clary spun away from him.

"I'm gonna be late to marks class," she complained. Her words didn't match her smiling face, though.

"Magic lessons with Magnus… how do you endure a whole hour like that? Aren't you blinded by the glitter? Or the makeup? Or the… I dunno…"

"Tight clothing? Not really. I mean, I don't really _look_." She blushed again. "But he's really helpful with my marks, and my drawing." That's what she called her mark-making. Drawing. It reminded her of her old hobby that she barely had any time for anymore.

"Whatever floats your five foot redhead boat. See ya… later." Jace winked at her. Clary spun around and head into the house, listening to Jace's laugh echo off the trees.

**Did you like it…? Did you hate it…? I'm totally in the dark here, so let me know! And you know how to do that… REVIEW! It really makes my day to come home to an inbox full of love! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! You guys (gals?) are the juices behind this story. I would mention you by name, but I would probably spell it wrong… **

**Topsy**

**P.S.**

**Happy New Moon premiere night! (Tomorrow…)**


	8. Bad News

**So we meet again.  
Chappie number… eight, right? A big number, for sure.  
Thank you so much to everybody who has me on their favorite authors, or Risen on their story alerts. And reviews! I love them! It's really flattering to know that you guys enjoy my work!  
Topsy**

Clary swept into the room to find Magnus and Alec sitting side by side on the couch, surrounded by Magnus' old spell books and other warlock goodies. She stopped in the doorway, adverting her eyes to the filthy carpet when she realized that the couple was not affectionately hugging.

Magnus's glittery eyes flew open, and he pushed Alec off him to sit formally. Alec looked confused for a second, before he followed Magnus's gaze to a very embarrassed Clary, and he blushed beet red.

Magnus cleared his throat. "Clary. You're… early."

Clary looked at the ancient grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "Late, actually."

"No matter. You're here now. Now, where did we leave off? Glow or Cower?"

"Glow, I think." Clary took out her stele and rolled it lazily from hand to hand. Magnus gave Alec a pointed look, and he retreated to an armchair in the shadows to dig into a faded book tucked under his arm.

"Right, Clary, let's try Glow. Start drawing, and I'll copy it down as best I can." Magnus held his pen ready over a large piece of parchment.

But before Clary could concentrate enough to picture the triangle within rings upon rings, a rousing chorus of "Barbie Girl" sang through the room.

"Oh—uh, just a sec… That's Izzy…" Alec hastily pulled a sleek silver cell phone from his pocket and slid it open. "Yeah?"

A few moments passed when Magnus and Clary watched the color drain from Alec's face.

"Start again, Iz. What happened?"

* * *

"We went through, but it's been like half an hour and he still hasn't come back! I don't know—what to do—this hasn't ever happened before…" Isabelle held her phone to her ear with one hand and clutched a fistful of her hair in the other, desperately trying to stanch the stream of salty tears on her cheeks.

Alec's tinny sigh came through the line, then he was all business. "Where are you right now?"

"Um… 34th and Madison."

"And at what time—"

"Twelve oh nine exactly. It's almost twelve thirty, Alec. Where is he!?"

"This is so strange… Magnus' portals are among the best out there… here, let me put him on the line."

Isabelle _hur-umphed_ and kicked a stray pebble at a passing car. She was doing her best to ignore the strange looks the passing pedestrians gave her, but the prying eyes still made her squirm.

Finally, the drawling voice rang in her ear. "If Ratb-I mean _Simon_- isn't with you, or close to you, then most likely, he's not in the big NY at all."

Isabelle gave an involuntary whimper.

"Are you crying? Wow, that's a first. What happened to kick-ass bad girl?"

"Magnus."

"Right, right. So, he's not with you, he's not here… I think he's somewhere in between. Like, a whole different location."

"What?"

"Well, it looks to me like the portal's 'path' was intercepted… at least Simon's. Interceptions are rare indeed, because it takes a hell of a lot of magic to do so. And my portals are among the strongest of them… so we're talking huge magic... that, um, has broken the path. And to be honest, I don't think we're dealing with friends."

Isabelle took a huge breath and closed her eyes. "You're telling me that somebody-with a huge amount of dark magic-has Simon?"

"That's one way to say it, yes."

"Just a second."

And ignoring the street full of bustling people and cars, Isabelle drew the phone away from her face and screamed.

* * *

"What's going on?" Clary hissed at the two men in the room.

"Simon," Alec whispered back (Magnus was still on the phone).

"What?!"

"He didn't make it through the portal. It's… intercepted, by the sound of it. By dark magic."

Deep breaths go a long way in a moment of panic, Clary remembered. So she filled her lungs with the musty living room's air, and tried to organize her racing thoughts.

There was one thing that could make this moment better.

"_Jace_," she called calmly. He was at her side in a flash, hand at the small of her back.

His golden eyes assessed his brother and Magnus before gluing back on Clary. "What's going on?"

"Really, do you people have any other lines?" Magnus snapped Alec's phone shut.

Clary ignored him and filled Jace in on the situation, trying to keep her cool and show how much more mature and trained she was since the last panic.

"So Jonathan has him?" Jace eyed the door, a budding plan obvious in his eyes.

Alec just stared at him. "How can we know…"

"C'mon, _really_? What other massive hellholes of dark magic would want Simon?"

That shifted Alec's perspective. "So we go get him. But where is he?" he started pacing the length of the room. "Well, there's the Morgenstern mansion…"

"Isn't that blown up?" Clary asked, flushing slightly at the memory of just how lush the lawn had been…

"There's two," Jace commented dully, shooting a wink at Clary to indicate he was sharing the same memory.

"Yes, there's one in the nearby area, right? The place where Valentine raised Jonathan…"

"But how do we know he's there?" Clary asked. She felt one step behind the guys, but did her best to hide it.

"Clare- if Jonathan wanted Simon, he wanted us to come save him. And if he wanted us to come save him, why would he hide?"

Clary surrendered to the logic.

"So, if we can grab our stuff, we'll be on our way." Jace started for the door, towing Clary with him.

"You three go… I'd better assist Isabelle in her misadventure," Magnus said, tossing Alec his phone. "And anyway, you have all the magic you need in redhead over there."

Clary shot him a small smile in appreciation of his praise, before being tugged off to the makeshift weapons room.

And Clary knew that now, all her training would be put to the test.

**Ooo, exciting.  
Did you like? Will you review? Wouldn't that be cool?  
I sure think so.  
Topsy**


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